actuallydáel

a cathedral,

i. which looms over you like the body of God looms over His followers, menacing, haunting.

and in my skin i draw stars, and their lines and constellations, which discreetly cover scars, broken dreams and aspirations.

And I'm writing you a letter, just to make sure you're fine, 'cause I don't really think you are.

the language of love isn't french, it's whatever language you speak in, and it doesn't resonate in paris, but in your lips and your breath.

Father, I have sinned again I have felt the urges and I have been feeling them for as long as I've inhabited heaven.

and as you are, i stand north of your bed. i lay my halo over you just so you can keep warm from the cold world that surrounds you. i lay my wings over you so i can protect you from the harm that the wrongdoers are inflicting upon you. i keep my eyes on you so that nobody else will touch you ever again, because nobody will.

know God had something in mind for me, because He gave me a name, but didn't tell me yet.

Blessed are they who preach of a forgiving God, for He has not punished them.

louder, louder, louder. i need enough noise to drown all my thoughts away. all of them.

sometimes i wonder whether i could repeat it all again, fix everything, be better, help others, help myself.